{/if}
So, Cardi B was "over it."
That’s what she said, right? Just a few days ago on some podcast, she declared the seven-year war with Nicki Minaj was in the rearview mirror. Peace in our time. I almost believed it for a second. I really did. It’s like watching two heavyweight boxers promise to hug it out, and you know, you just know, they’re both just waiting for the other one to blink so they can land a sucker punch.
And blink, they did.
It all kicked off because Cardi B had the audacity to release her sophomore album, titled—and you cannot make this up—"Am I the Drama." It’s like painting a giant bullseye on your own chest and then acting surprised when someone takes a shot. The album debuted at No. 1, moving 200,000 units. Sounds impressive, until you see the little asterisk: it was being pushed for a cool $4.99. That’s not an album release; that’s a clearance sale.
Nicki Minaj, offcourse, pounced on this like a starving wolf. She mocked the price, the sales figures, and then went after the lyrics. She zeroed in on Cardi’s track "Magnet," spoofing the line "A-B-C-D-E-F-G / These btches can't f with me." Her take? It’s elementary. A first-grade diss track. And honestly? She’s not entirely wrong. It’s not exactly Shakespeare.
This is the part where it’s all just boring, predictable industry trash talk. A numbers game for people who care more about their nicki minaj net worth or cardi b net worth than making anything remotely interesting. It’s pathetic. No, ‘pathetic’ doesn’t do it justice—it’s a meticulously choreographed race to the bottom, and business is booming.
Then It Got Vile
I can handle the fake beef. I can handle the sales-figure-flexing. It’s all part of the grim spectacle. But then Cardi B decided to retaliate, and she didn't just bring a knife to a gunfight; she brought a tactical nuke full of generational trauma.
She went after Nicki Minaj’s family.
First, her husband, Kenneth Petty, a registered sex offender with a 1995 attempted rape conviction on his record. Low blow, but in the twisted logic of celebrity feuds, maybe still on the table. But she didn't stop there. She brought up Nicki’s brother, Jelani Maraj, who is currently serving 25 years to life for raping an 11-year-old girl.

And then, in an act of what I can only describe as profoundly broken, internet-poisoned cruelty, Cardi photoshopped one of Nicki's signature wigs onto Jelani’s prison mugshot and posted it.
Let that sink in for a second. We’re not talking about diss tracks anymore. This ain't some clever marketing anymore; it's using a child’s real-life horror story as a punchline to win a Twitter argument. It’s ghoulish. It’s the kind of thing that should make everyone involved stop, log off, and go sit in a quiet room for about a year.
But it didn’t stop. Cardi then accused Nicki of having fertility problems from drug use—"percs scrambling your eggs." It’s just… ugly. There’s no other word for it. It's a complete abandonment of any shred of human decency for the sake of a few trending topics. It's moments like this that make me wonder why I even bother writing about this stuff. My entire feed is just a doomscroll of the worst people in the world yelling at each other, and the algorithm knows I’ll click. It’s my own personal digital hell.
The One Sane Thing Said
Amidst all the radioactive mudslinging, Cardi B actually made one single, solitary point that rang true. Responding to the endless comparisons, she said that Nicki, a veteran with 16 years in the game, shouldn't be measuring herself against her. She should be looking at her actual peers: Rihanna, Taylor Swift, Drake.
And there it is. The unspoken truth of the entire feud.
This isn’t about music. It’s not about art. It's about relevance. It's about an artist from one generation desperately trying to fend off the next, using the only tactics that seem to work anymore: pure, uncut, outrage-as-engagement. Nicki Minaj isn’t beefing with Cardi; she’s beefing with the passage of time. And it’s a fight she can’t win, no matter how many mugshots get photoshopped.
Then again, who am I to judge? The album hit No. 1. The names "Cardi B" and "Nicki Minaj" are screaming from every headline. Maybe this is just what it takes. Maybe the moral rot is the point.
To cap it all off, in the middle of this tire fire, Nicki announces her next album is dropping on March 27… 2026. Two years from now. It’s the most absurd, galaxy-brained move of the whole affair. She’s not ending a fight; she’s scheduling the sequel. They’re just teeing up the next pay-per-view event for March 2026, and we’re all supposed to pretend this is...
Let's be real. This isn't a "feud." It's a marketing campaign waged by two millionaires who have realized that public dignity is a liability they can no longer afford. They're not rivals; they're business partners in a thriving economy of mutual degradation. And the product they're selling is the morbid spectacle of their own descent. We are the consumers. And the whole thing is just profoundly, soul-crushingly bleak.
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